


Neither Can I

by azhawritesreylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Awkward Romance, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Living Together, Romantic Comedy, Shameless Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azhawritesreylo/pseuds/azhawritesreylo
Summary: Ben Solo needs to rent out his two bedroom apartment. Rey Johnson needs a place closer to the campus. Together, they solve a problem—and create a new one.Living with your student tends to be scandalous. Living with your teacher tends to be hell.They might just do both.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28
Collections: Reylo modern!AU trash





	1. The Problem (A Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> "Can't sleep?" She asks without looking at him. "Neither can I."

“She’s neat,” he tells Hux. “Very organized. And she pays the rent on time.”

“He’s quiet,” she says to Rose. “Considerate, too—he doesn’t badger me about paying on time.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Do you have Rey Johnson in your class?”

“Remember Professor Solo, English Lit?”

“Oh no…”

“Uh-oh.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” they both say in two different areas to two different people, but exactly at the same time. “‘Oh, fuck.’”


	2. The Landlord & The Tenant (Chapters 1 & 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month ago...

It didn’t seem like such a bad idea at first. 

Ben had more space than he needed and the extra income would help him with his bills, maybe even complete his library this time. And then it dawned on him that he would actually be living with _another_ human being and started panicking. He was used to his ways, alone and in the quiet comfort of his apartment. Everything had a system and a place they needed to be in. 

He makes his coffee at five in the morning, reads a chapter of whatever book he’s currently into, and takes a shower thirty past five. If he’s feeling up for a walk before then, he would. If not, he would walk to the campus instead of taking a cab, knowing there’d be a fresh change of shirt in his cabinet if he needed it. He’s a professor, and a pretty good one at that, and his hours were flexible most of the time. To him, schools had an atmosphere of organized chaos that he liked. People go to places at certain times and they were hardly encouraged to be late. There was always a system and a way of doing things, but it also had enough wiggle room to be creative. 

There were a few interested parties to his available space; men who want a closer (and more secure) place to bring someone home (or cheat on their respective partners), suspicious individuals with seemingly not-so-legal businesses, couples, and a young woman babysitting a cat. A very familiar cat. 

“How much did you say it would be for?” She asks.

“Five hundred every two weeks,” he replies. “I’m flexible on the price.”

The little woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Why’d you say you were renting it out again?”

“Too much space,” he says and that only warranted a funnier look on the woman’s face.

“Must be expensive,” she mutters, looking around. “You don’t do any drugs or anything, do you? Because not that we’re judging but we prefer a clean apartment.”

“No,” he patiently answers then stops. “We? Do you mean the cat?”

“Oh, no,” and she chuckles, petting the timid orange cat in her arms. “My friend. She’s actually the one who needs a place to stay. I’m just the pre-test.”

“Oh.”

She turns back to him now with a big smile. “I think we’ll take this.”

“I’m not sure about two people staying in one bedroom though.”

“No, no, no,” she quickly says. “She’s the only one staying. I have my own apartment. She just arrived from England and didn’t want to _impose_ or whatever.”

Ben immediately appreciated his soon-to-be boarder for that.

“Are you sure a thousand bucks a month is enough? This is a spacious apartment.”

“Not really,” he says. “I’ll still be using more than half and the bedroom is smaller than mine. I think a thousand would be fair, if not a little overpriced.”

This time when the young woman laughed she did it heartily. “This is New York, sir. Everything is overpriced.”

He was told he should expect her that afternoon and the boxes next day if all was to go well. When she arrived, he had already put the kettle on and a batch of poorly cut cookies on the oven. Her eyes were what struck him first. He had never seen such beautiful hazel eyes up close before. They were wide and doe-like, staring up at him under long thin lashes.

“Hello,” she says in that accent. “I’m Rey Johnson. Are you Ben Solo?”

“Yes,” he replies a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, come in.” He opens the door a bit wider for her to step through.

She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around, and looked back at him with a wide smile. “This place looks so well-put.” 

Ben blushes at the comment and opts to close the door to hide it. 

“I think we’ll get along well, Mr. Solo,” she remarks and waits for him to reach her before holding out her hand.

He was slow to take it, the gesture familiar but not at all common to him. “And please...call me Ben.”

“Ben,” and if there was a possible way for her bright smile to get any bigger, it just did. She pauses and pulls away, heading for the kitchen. “Are you baking?” She asks.

“ _Trying_ ,” he admits gingerly. “I just followed the instructions on the box.”

“They smell delicious,” she commends. “I bake too, but only on the weekends. I haven’t had much time to bake at all lately.”

“Moving to another country can be taxing,” he agrees.

But Rey, reappearing back in the living room, shakes her head. “It’s not that at all. But maybe it is. Mainly, it’s my art that’s taking up so much of my time.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Don’t I look like one?” She asks, catching him off guard. “I still haven’t changed out of my overalls,” she mutters. “Anyway—”

Ben didn’t have trouble keeping up with her. It was a nice change of pace. Rey, he observed, was exactly the kind of person his apartment needed. She was bubbly, charismatic, and polite. There was an air about her that screamed sunshine. New York already seemed like a less dull place to be living in. 

After they signed the contract and updated the lease, he realized there was a downside. An artist needed more room, more space. She never complained about it and kept her things in her room. But every time she would open the door, he feared everything would spill out like paint in a toppled tin can. It wasn’t his place but he thought that as her landlord, he ought to at least try and find a solution. 

He was friends with their super and being on the top floor had its perks. The roof had a small room big enough to store some of the things he didn’t need anymore (though it was hard to decide which one of them were disposable). For only twenty-five bucks, he was given the key and full rooftop access. He moved his stuff from the closet space in the living room up to the ‘roof room’ one Saturday evening and prayed to God no one would have the balls to break in and steal some of it. 

  
  


Rey hadn’t had any clue why Ben was moving back and forth, carrying his stuff out of the apartment. 

For one horrible moment, she thought he was moving out or escaping. Or throwing a tantrum.

“Need any help?” She asked as he carried off a bicycle through the door.

“It’s fine!” He reassured her. “Carry on.”

She wanted to say that to him as a pun, she realized, and shook her head at herself, laughing. She went back to her canvas, pulling out a brush from her bun, and ignored the ruckus he made outside. 

Life seemed good for Rey Johnson. She finally moved to America. She was going to go to school in less than two weeks time with her best friend, Rose. There was enough money in her account to pay for this gorgeous New York flat. _And_ she was called in for a job at a local bistro where she can wait tables. It was simple, this formula to life, but hard to follow. Rey was aware of the opportunities she was getting everyday and she didn’t want to miss a single one. Her fresh start was too good to be true.

She had to make the most of it.

“Rey?” Ben knocked on her door in two sharp raps as he always did and waited patiently for her to open it. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and the upper half of his dark luscious hair was tied in a small bun. 

For a second, she just stood there, admiring the view. As a student of art, it was a rule to gawk at beautiful things. In her head, she was already sketching his face and wondered why she hadn’t done that when they first met. She could even sculpt him if she wanted. He was a big enough man to have a statue made out of him. A whole body sculpture would look good on her—

“Rey?”

“Huh? Portfolio! I meant, portfolio!” 

Ben looked at her, confused. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs sheepishly. “I was thinking of something. What is it you said again?” Rey hoped she hadn’t acted too strange and could brush off this entire incident quickly.

He scratches the back of his neck, a tic for when he’s unsure (she guessed), and comes out with it. “I want to show you something.”

He leads her to the living room and shows her an open door of an empty space. They stood there for a good minute and when she finally asked what they were supposed to do with this particular closet, he says;

“It’s for you.”

She stares at him.

“I,uh...I noticed you’ve been having trouble fitting in all your stuff in your room.”

The blush on her cheeks was immediate. She didn’t mean to come across as disorganized, to which he quickly amended.

“I just thought it would give you more space.”

“A closet tends to do that,” she joked.

He smiles, embarrassed. “I only meant—”

“No, I get it,” Rey reassured him. “Thank you. That was very—” _sweet? Thoughtful?_ “—considerate of you.”

He smiles again but this time, it reaches his eyes. 

  
  


Ben noticed she started to go out at night.

It wasn’t his business, of course. He was just her landlord, not her boyfriend. Or her father. And she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. If moving to the US wasn’t proof of that, he doesn’t know what is. 

But then he noticed another thing: she always wore white. 

It wasn’t a difficult thing to deduct and soon he put the puzzle pieces together. Obviously she had to have a job. She wouldn’t be able to pay him her rent if she didn’t. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by asking, but he tested the theory one night by asking what she wanted for dinner.

“Oh, that’s alright,” she said. “I’ll be eating at the bistro.”

There were a handful of bistros down the block. Their area was sprawling with them. He tried not to feed into his curiosity. But it was a Friday night and Hux was bugging him to go get something to eat. Luckily, he might just know the place.

It wasn’t the place they ate at.

But on the way home, Hux bumped into a familiar face coming out of a packed bistro.

“Ah! Miss Tico!” His accent is thicker when he’s nervous, Ben noted. “Nice to see you out here...in the neighborhood.”

He tried not to laugh as to not embarrass his colleague. 

“Mr. Hux,” she greets with a kind smile. “I didn’t know you two know each other,” she says, looking at Ben. “Nice to see you again.”

“You’re Rey’s friend,” he remembers aloud. “Is she here?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Hux asks him now.

“As a matter of fact,” he replies. “She’s my tenant’s close friend. How do _you_ know her?”

“She’s my cat sitter,” Hux says with a straight face. 

No wonder that orange cat looked familiar.

“Small world,” Rose points out, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Well, I have to head home. It was nice to see you both.” And then, a bit awkwardly, she adds, “You two look really great together.”

Before any of them could respond, she was walking away. Ben let out the most amused laugh as Hux stared after the girl, distraught. 

“I can’t believe she thinks I’m gay,” he says to him. “After I left roses for her on the table last week...surely, she must’ve gotten some hint.”

“Did she take them?” Ben demanded. 

Hux merely shakes his head.

“Then she probably thought they were from your secret admirer,” he tells him. “Better to be straightforward next time, bud. Too much can be left for misinterpretation.”

After that, Ben wished he had taken his own advice. 

“Are you going out?” He had asked her, preparing dinner. Mondays meant she didn’t have to go to the bistro, he found out. “I’m cooking for two.”

“Oh,” and she sounded unsure. “Do you need me to? I can go to Rose’s.”

“No…” He trailed off. “I wanted to know because I cooked for two.”

“Oh,” she says again. This time, she sounded confused. “Isn’t Mr. Hux coming over?”

“What?” Ben didn’t mean to laugh but he did, and then he realized what she meant. “What? No!”

He peeked around the kitchen entryway to see her looking straight ahead but the TV wasn’t on. A blush creeps on her cheeks and for a flicker of a moment, she smiles. He must’ve imagined it, he thought. But then she turned to see him looking at her and she averted her gaze quickly. 

“I’m, uh…,” she murmured, suddenly moving around. “I’ll set the table,” she offered. “I’ll just change.”

Ben smiled at that and continued cooking. He didn’t mind her in her overalls to be honest. Rey Johnson had a way of looking presentable without even trying. Paint marks on her jeans and her cheeks only heightened her clear complexion. The creases on her forehead with her knitted brows when she concentrates also had an effect on Ben that he couldn’t fully grasp. But then she came out with a clean blue shirt and comfortable-looking pajama bottoms, the shade of sunset orange, and that was a whole other thing that sparked Ben’s interest in this human being. 

_Who are you?_ He wanted to ask. _And why did you come into my life?_

“What?” She asks, making him think that he’d spoken his inner thoughts aloud.

“What?”

Rey suppresses a grin. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Then, touching her face consciously, she whispers, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he reassures her. 

“Okay,” and she straightens up. “Will it just be us then?”

“It’s just us.”

She begins to move around the kitchen, working systematically; pulling out the dishes first, then (after asking if they needed bowls—they didn’t) the utensils, and some napkins. She brought them out to the table before returning to the cupboards, getting the glasses.

“Do you want some wine?” He decided to ask.

She brightens at this. “Only if it’s red.”

That was good. He only drank red too. “There’s a pair of wine glasses on the top shelf,” and then thinking better of it, Ben moves to get them himself. The kitchen was tiny and she was right there, wedged between the counter and him. 

“Sorry,” he whispers and hands over the glasses. 

She didn’t move for a second. And then her hands carefully skimmed the necks of their glasses, her skin lightly brushing off his. He must’ve misheard the way her breath hitched. Maybe it was his own breathing he heard…

“Right,” and she goes out and stays there for the rest of the time he cooked their dinner. 

The table was beautifully made when he came out with the pasta and the bowl of marinated shrimp. 

“That’s very nice.”

She radiated with the compliment and helped him set up the food in the middle. “I should get the wine,” she says and goes back to the kitchen, only to come back out again. “I actually don’t know where the wine is,” she points out, chuckling a little. 

“Right.” Ben comes to her and points at the cabinet below. “All the alcohol is stored in there, with a cocktail shaker.”

Rey looked impressed and peered into the cabinet. “You look like you have a whole set here,” she says. “Were you a bartender?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I’m just an impulsive online buyer.”

“You don’t give off that vibe,” she noted. Then she looked up at him. “Definitely a bartender.” Her smile was intoxicating. She grabbed the bottle (one of the five stored in) and stood up, smirking at him. “Takes one to know one.”

  
  


She didn’t mean to show off, but it felt nice.

So they had one thing in common, as if that wasn’t enough reason to crush on him. They talked throughout dinner like they haven’t done before. But to be honest, she hasn’t had this connection with anyone else. No man has ever held her interest this much and it was starting to show. Rey was more easy going with him and her energy was palpable in the air. 

The feeling was intense, buzzing like electricity. And he was feeding it vigorously. 

“Yeah, I’m more of a dog person too,” he admits. “We used to have this dog back at home. Artoo. But he’s an old dog now, he hardly moves.”

“Aww,” she muses. “That’s too bad.”

“My mom doesn’t want to put him down, and neither do I. But my dad says it’ll be easier.”

“Saying goodbye is never easy,” she murmurs.

He looks at her then, fingering the stem of the wine glass. “It must’ve been hard—leaving home.”

Rey shrugs. “Home isn’t one place for me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s where _I_ am,” she says. “It’s who I meet.” She didn’t mean to look at him exactly, but maybe she did. Her heart pounded at the sight of his eyes intently gazing over him. 

When did it get so hot in here? New York in the fall isn’t supposed to be hot. 

He stood up to clear the plates and she followed his move.

“I should wash the dishes,” Rey suggests. “You cooked.”

“It’s alright,” he reassures her. “It’s your day off. Besides, it must be tiring to have to do that every night.”

She was about to agree when she realized she hadn’t told him about the job yet. She only started last week.

“Did you follow me?” She asked, trying not to sound like she was teasing him. 

The blush on his cheeks told her she failed at that. “I, uh...saw your schedule. On the fridge. I’m sorry.”

“But I only marked them in circles,” she replied. “I didn’t write anything on it.”

“Right.” The big man, always so composed and quiet, suddenly looked like he was at a loss for words. “But I didn’t follow you. I promise.”

“That’s too bad,” she murmurs. “I could’ve shown you how to clear out a table.” 

A look was exchanged, and then a breath, and before anyone could do anything, they were sharing a kiss. Rey knew she moved first.

How can she not?

They cleared out the table alright, pushing off empty plates to the side and their wine glasses falling scandalously off the floor as they scrambled to get on top of each other. It had never been a habit of hers to just jump on someone. Occasions never called for it. Or maybe it did but the men didn’t appeal to her that much. 

The moment she met him, wearing that gray button-down shirt that fit him so well (but not as much as his black trousers), there was something in his eyes that awakened something in her core. For a time, she didn’t know but, it drove her to make more art because the feeling lingered in her bones. She couldn’t tell what it was that irked her so much. Irk in a good way; in a way that rattled her existence. Her brush or her charcoal always knew how to relieve her of the tremors in her mind. But grabbing him now, pulling him to her body—it was so much better.

God help her art after this.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea was to ease into it.

He hadn’t had a one night stand in...well, _ever_.

Ben just didn’t have the time (or the confidence). He was more likely to be accused of boring someone to death than being mistaken for a guy of charisma and charm. There is a place for him at home and now it seems to have worked to his advantage.

Rey was a catch, that much is sure. He had never been more bewildered. Bewitched. To think they’ve only known each other for three weeks and they were living together.

Oh no.

His mind raced.

They were living together.

They _are_ living together.

This isn’t a one night stand.

She’s his _tenant_ . He’s her _landlord_.

They’re _living together!_

What had he done?

WHY DID HE THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?

And then Rey sighs in her sleep, breaking him from his spiral of a reverie, and every nerve in his body relaxes. The way she was cooped up in his arms, her cheek pressed on his chest with her head tilted upward made him smile instantly.

He could breathe her in, the very scent of lavender and mint.

Ben pulled the covers to her chin and kissed the top of her head, hoping that this was a dream he didn’t need to wake up from any time soon.

  
  


The space next to her was empty but warm.

Sunlight streams here in fractions instead of a full force like it did in her room. There was a certain charm with the way the shadows unveiled what it only wanted her to see, much like its master. A family photo is framed neatly on the wall facing her. Ben is an only child, she noticed. His parents looked lovely, a picture-perfect couple. The top of his dresser was neat like everything else in this flat when she first moved in. There was a deodorant and cologne, a comb, and a small square mirror. Shoes were lined up beside his dresser; trainers, Oxford, and a pair of black converse sneakers. The only things a bit (but hardly) disorganized here is his bedside table. The half side of it crawled with battered paperback copies of classics, the other half had his watch and wallet discarded on top, beside a picture of him and who she could only assume was Mr. Hux with their arms around each other, all smiles.

If the room was any indication, Ben’s life was as little as hers. Little doesn’t mean insignificant. It’s just that some people, him and her for instance, are more compact than others. They have everything they need right here.

“Good morning.” The sweet aroma of heated cinnamon buns and coffee wafter around the room as Ben stood by the open door. “Up for breakfast?”

“Yes please,” she replies sweetly, looking up at him with childish glee. “How long have you been up?” 

“Not that long,” he says, coming towards her and sitting down at the foot of his bed. 

“Ben?” 

He looks at her with those eyes, deep and held back, so unlike the feral hunger he possessed last night. She crawls to him slowly, careful not to discard the sheet covering her, and pauses. There was uncertainty here, she could feel it. But the pounding in her chest was real and the call of her bones was another. They cannot be ignored.

“Ben?” And she gazes at his lips, willing him to her like a siren’s call. 

When her eyes found him again, he was back. Things were about to get messier now and she didn’t mind.

No, she didn’t mind at all. 

  
  


Did he panic?

Of course, he did. He was in the middle of ordering them breakfast when it dawned on him that maybe this was something she did all the time. It didn’t strike him once that Rey could be so casual and liberated with her sex life because he hadn’t thought about her sex life. He had walked back and forth the block, deciding if he should just brush it off. Beat her to the punch and all that. Maybe if he acted nonchalant…

But it was hard to disguise the need he felt for her. The pull was strong and immediate, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. Ben had never been this way with anyone, or about them or anything. This was entirely new territory and the grounds are hard to cover when you’re in a daze. 

He had two options: be honest or do what she wanted.

If he comes back to the apartment with her already dressed, working in her makeshift studio and acting like nothing happened, he’d accept that. That would be her choice. The ‘be honest’ plan was more complicated and vague. And if this was the reality he was in, the one he’d left before last night, then he shouldn’t really worry about being honest with himself. He liked her. A lot. He could shed his skin and bind his soul with hers if that would make her happy.

Christ.

She was up, her eyes traveling from piece to piece, and he knew she was wondering who the hell she fucked last night. There was nothing much that could tell her about the things in his life that he couldn’t tell her himself. He was an only child. His parents married young. He had three pairs of shoes and one best friend. That was it. He could fit his life in a suitcase. Well, except his books. 

Books were his life. They provided him with a living. He couldn’t possibly fit all of his books in one bag. Maybe a truck would suffice.

“Good morning,” he says. “Up for breakfast?”

That was a good start. Very casual. 

“Yes please,” she replies with a smile that could unravel him. He could feel his resolve dissolving by the minute. “How long have you been up?” She asks.

_Forever? Two weeks? Three years?_ He couldn’t tell. Ben had an imagination of the gods and there was a part of him that wondered if he’d been awake all this time or in a coma before he met her.

“Not that long,” he decided and came towards her. He wanted to touch her again, but he settled on the foot of his bed, careful not to.

There was a brief silence. And then…

“Ben?”

She called to every fiber of his being, shaking them loose from its binds. He looked at her, trying to decipher this creature before him. What is she?

“Ben?” And with that voice, he could feel his heart squeezed tight, only released when she utters his name again.

When did he become such a fucking poet?

It didn’t matter now. Nothing else mattered. 

He had her here, and my god, she wanted him too. The animal inside him was tearing free from his bones and he was at her in a moment, chasing her lips with his own and slipping his hands where they should. He tore her covers away and discarded his own, feeling her hands roam on his chest to his neck and up to his hair. He kept breathing her in till _he_ was out of breath. In a quick move, she was riding him, panting at the impact of their connection. They were a tangle of skin and bones and pounding blood. They were alive.

Afterwards, they lie in the mess of their tryst, consumed from head to toe. Both of them stared up at the ceiling, their hearts echoing the same beat.

“We’ll have to reheat everything now, won’t we?” She asks him, laughing a bit.

He laughs too.

And then the doorbell rang. 

  
  


He looked disheveled.

They both did. But his eyes were wide and he looked like a child. There was an innocence to him, despite all they did, that lingered in his eyes. 

Rey could only guess that he was a few years her senior, but now she’s not so sure. For all she knows, he can be around her age.

“It’s alright,” he tells her. “She’s not scary.”

Then the woman behind the door pounded with a full fist.

“What’s taking so long?” The voice demanded, impatient.

Rey had put on her clothes from the night before, and glancing at the mirror, she began to wonder what her landlord found appealing. Her pajama bottoms were orange and cartoonish for crying out loud. She didn’t even wear her sexy underwear. But even then, she felt giddy. There was something here, something new to explore. 

Ben was combing his hair with his hands, perfect in his plain white shirt and black shorts. “Ready?” He asks her.

“Sure,” but she didn’t know what she was supposed to be ready for.

Meeting his mother after the night they’ve had was never something she had to deal with before. But here they are.

Ben opened the door and the woman behind it was a foot smaller than her, carrying a tote bag and a French bulldog, with a scowl on her face (the woman...well, also the dog). 

“Hey, ma.”

“What took you so long?” She grunted, crossing the threshold. Then she looked at Rey and a hint of surprise shadowed her small face. “Ah. Company. You were never one for those, Benjamin…” she mused. “This is new.”

Yes, it is.

“Hello,” Rey says, holding out her hand. “I’m Rey.”

The woman sets down her dog and grabs her outstretched hand firmly. “Finally,” and she nearly sighs. “A girl with manners.” She smiles but directs a look of disdain towards Ben. 

“Ma.” Ben sounded embarrassed.

“You can call me Leia, dear,” the woman tells her and lets go, heading for the kitchen. “So, you two must know each other long if you’re still here.”

They trail after her, passing looks between one another. 

“Actually, ma,” Ben starts. “Rey lives here.”

Something clattered to the floor.

Rey purses her lips and decides to respond herself. “I’m the tenant, ma’am.”

“Ah.” Was that relief? Acknowledgement? Leia peered in from the doorway and studied them both. “But you’re involved?”

“She just moved here.” Ben sounded annoyed and sighed heavily. His mother was onto them, she can tell. 

“That’s not answering the question, Benjamin.”

Definitely. She was _definitely_ onto them.

Rey lets out a laugh as to relieve the tension. “Your son’s been very generous, ma’am.”

Leia narrows her eyes at her.

“Not _that_ generous,” she says quickly. “I just meant...he helped me with the storage, threw in a free closet. And he always cooks for two.”

To that, the woman simply smiles but Rey didn’t know what it implies. 

“What brings you by, ma?” He ought to ask, changing the subject. “It’s not dad, is it?”

“Your dad’s fine,” she says and resumes stalking their kitchen cupboards. “I was worried you weren’t eating.”

“I’m fine,” he reassures her. “I eat out with Hux every now and then.”

“I’d rather you went out with Connix,” she replies. “She’s a smart young woman.”

Ben presses his lips together in a straight line. “And she hates my guts.”

“Only because you snubbed her during the gala,” his mother retorts. “Seriously, son, are you planning on being a eunuch?”

Rey snorts. “Sorry,” she mouths at him when he gives her an amused look. 

“I’m fine, ma,” he says again. 

“I know,” and she reappears, the tote bag now empty. “Just don’t go messing around with the tenant when you’re bored.”

“Ma,” he whines, his face turning red.

Rey felt herself blush too.

“Sorry, dear,” Leia says to her. “But it’s never a good idea.”

“Message received,” Ben says, more stern than he’s ever acted before. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“You have that book reading on Thursday,” Leia reminds him. “Your dad and I are coming. And Amilyn is coming too.”

“Alright,” he relents. “I’ll see you all on Thursday, then.”

“Nice to meet you,” Leia says to Rey, a tight smile on her face. 

“Nice to meet you too,” she replies, feeling a bit deflated.

The woman claps her hands once and the dog trails after her. Both leave the flat in quick steps and Ben shuts the door after them. He closes his eyes and breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs.

“It’s alright,” she says though she’s not sure. “Is your mom always that intense?”

Ben smiles and opens his eyes, looking at her fondly. “Only when I make her wait.”

He doesn’t move from where he stood but Rey could see the emotions shifting already. They were on such a high but now that was coming down too. The things his mother said were starting to make sense. They went at it too fast, too soon. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” She asks quietly, holding her post in the middle of the room. “What your mom said…”

Ben nods despite her hope that he wouldn’t. 

“I can’t say I wholeheartedly agree,” she admits. “But it’s sensible advice.”

“It is,” he resigns. 

“So…”

“So…”

He sighs and stalks towards her in three strides. She looks up at him in earnest.

“This won’t be awkward if we don’t make it to be,” she decided then. “We’ll be friends. Good ones.”

Ben breathes out with a smile on his lips as if he saw this one coming. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to the friendzone.”

“We’ll both be in it,” she points out. “We just have to...ease into it.”

Something sparked in his eyes and he gazed down at her with overwhelming intensity. She could already see where his head’s at.

“That’s not easing into it!” But Rey laughs.

“If we’re going to end this, we have to do it right,” he says.

That didn’t seem like a bad proposition. “Lead the way then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Funny enough, I wrote this because *I* can't sleep. I wanted to do a drabble but ended up with another four (maybe five or six) part story (again!). Wish me luck!


End file.
